OVER THE WATER.

BY EVELYN R. GARRATT.

CHAPTER IV.-WAITING IN THE TWILIGHT.
UMMER with all its dazzling glories had departed, the
autumn tints had also faded, and the leaves fallen, only a
few still clung persistently to the brown branches. The
days closed in early now, and the afternoons, which only a
few weeks ago had been flooded with golden sunshine,

turned cold and damp before the light had vanished.

Mrs. Venning had been into her district, and was now returning chilled both in body and soul. Her people disappointed her, and so did the world in general; even her husband did not sympathise with her in the difficulties of the work as much as she had once hoped he would.

"My dear," he would exclaim, whenever she ventured to broach the subject to him at dinner, "remember I've been among the sick and dying all day, and want something to cheer, rather than to depress me further. Pray leave your good women to take care of themselves for an hour or two."

Mrs. Venning rarely mentioned her district to her husband now, as she did not like the wet blanket he threw over her plans whenever she ventured to do so. It had pained her not a little at first, " but," she reasoned to herself, "being a doctor, of course it is not likely he should care to talk about what are such common sights to him; there is some excuse for him, I suppose, but none that I can see for Ella and Beatrice, that they should care so little about their poorer neighbours. It is not as if they had not been brought up to it, for ever since they were little children I have tried to inculcate in them the duty of parish work. Why, they have taught in the Sunday-school ever since they were twelve years old, and though Beatrice was at first unwilling, and drew back from the work, I insisted upon her undertaking it. I'm sure I have done my best to make both the girls care for it."

It never struck Mrs. Venning that it would have been wiser for her to have put before her girls that to work in God's vineyard should be looked upon as a privilege rather than as an irksome duty, for what work can be pleasing in God's sight that is not done cheerfully and willingly for very love of Him? Will He indeed accept work given grudgingly?

Mrs. Venning's house was in High Street, and possessed no garden either in front or behind, but the house itself was large, comfortable, and interesting in its old-fashioned interior. The long rather dark drawingroom, with its carved ceiling and many nooks and corners, looked cosy enough on this first day of November as Mrs. Venning entered it.

On each side of the fire-place, ensconced in easy-chairs, were her two eldest daughters, both of them deep in their books. They were pretty, healthy-looking girls, though the expression of their faces could as yet scarcely be called either interesting or particularly intelligent. What they might become, if roused to the consciousness of life's reality, remained to be seen, but at present they were looked upon by the busy set in Inglesby as empty-headed girls, shallow both in heart and brain, and not of much use to the world in general.

This was man's way of looking upon Mrs. Venning's two eldest daughters, forgetting that the most shallow and useless of the human race are included in the "all" for whom Christ died, and whose souls and bodies cannot therefore be worthless in His sight.

Ella looked up as her mother entered, and yawning, asked if it were not very cold out of doors? While Beatrice only leant forward more eagerly towards the fire, by the light of which she was reading.

"Cold! I should just think so," answered Mrs. Venning, taking off her fur cloak; "a regular first of November. Reading by firelight again, Beatrice? When shall I be able to impress upon you girls the folly of trying your eyes in that way? The bell is close at hand, Bee; surely it is not too much trouble to ring for the candles."

"She doesn't even hear you, mother," said Ella, laughing; "she is far too engrossed in her book. Happy girl, to be able to escape from this dull little Inglesby in that fashion."

"Stupid book!" exclaimed Beatrice, suddenly shutting it up, and throwing it impatiently away; "it ends just as every other-nothing new about it whatever."

"Ring the bell for the candles and for tea," said her mother. "It's past our usual time already. You really should try to be more thoughtful, girls; it ought not to fall upon me to see after every little thing."

Beatrice rang the bell a little impatiently. After imagining herself to be in the place of the heroine of her book all the afternoon, she found it difficult to settle down to commonplace life again, and to take a scolding amicably. Ella, on the contrary, was of an extraordinarily placid temperament, was seldom even ruffled, and found no difficulty in smiling, though all the rest of the household might be frowning. Of the two, Mrs. Venning found Ela the most difficult to deal with; she never would acknowledge herself to be in the wrong, and by her smile and placid face made every one else appear to be so.

It was with a weary sigh that Mrs. Venning left the room; these pretty daughters of hers lay very heavily on her heart. Two strong young lives, which might have been consecrated to her Master's service, to be wasted as they were! Was it her fault? she wondered, as she took off her bonnet, and if so, why had she failed? "It seems so strange,” she thought to herself, "that my children, of all others, should do so little, and should keep clear of every meeting and good work. I know now they won't go to the missionary meeting on the 16th. Who's that, I wonder?" as she heard a hurried knock at the front door. "Ab, it is Sasie Ogilvie's step; I wish I could persuade her to go to the meeting, for then I know the girls would," and Mrs. Venning began to pin on her cap, while her face became more hopeful.

"I'm a pleasant surprise, I hope," said Sasie, merrily, and rather out of breath, as after running upstairs hastily she entered the drawing-room. "The truth is that I had not intended coming in at all to-day, only I wanted to escape from some one."

What a pretty picture she made, standing framed in the doorway, the firelight shining upon her! No one could have failed to admire her. "The very one for Thy work," old Mr. North had said that summer afternoon as his eyes had fallen upon her; and had he seen her now, with her eager young face, which the cold air outside had tinged with a pretty colour, looking so strong and bright, I think he would have echoed his own words.

Ella and Beatrice, who had been at home all the afternoon, buried in their books, and were only too glad of the small excitement of a visit from Sasie Ogilvie, who was a favourite with most of the Inglesby girls, came forward to welcome her and undo her cloak. But Sasie, instead of allowing them to help her, hurried to the window, the blinds of which were not yet drawn down, and looked out into the cold twilight.

"Who is it you were escaping from?" asked Ella, following her. "Old Mr. North," said Sasie, laughing. "Somehow I'm always running up against him when I particularly want to avoid him."

"Mr. North, who is lodging at Mrs. Caston's!" exclaimed Beatrice. "What is there to object to in him? He's a little queer, it seems, but apparently quite harmless. Why should you mind him?

"Simply because the only time I have ever spoken to him he asked me questions which made me feel uncomfortable for days. But I shall have to go and see him some day, I suppose, as I promised."

66

And you mean to put off the evil day as long as possible? Yes-but," added Sasie, her eyes getting accustomed to the twilight, "isn't that him, standing just opposite ? "

Yes, there he was, bent and bowed, but looking towards the house where he thought he had seen his "bit of sunshine" enter, with his hand as usual shading his eyes. Ah! he'd been hunting for his "bit of sunshine," this poor old man, ever since he had met Sasie in the churchyard on that summer afternoon, when the sun had streamed in all its wealth of light upon her, causing him to shade his eyes as he looked after her. Though other things had faded from his mind since that afternoon, Sasie, in all her sweet bright girlhood, was still fresh in his memory. Her face had haunted him day and night, and every footstep on the staircase had made him hope for the sight that his poor weak eyes longed for. But as days and weeks passed by, and the chair he had placed opposite his was still empty, and the pretty pictures and little knick-knacks he fancied would amuse her remained where he had put them, a fear arose in his heart lest the "bit of sunshine" had been nothing more than a delusion on his part. And yet how often he imagined he caught sight of her bright hair and lithe figure in his walks!

Once he thought he had seen her only a few feet in front of him as he

was on his way to church, and he had quickened his pace, but as he walked faster so it seemed to him did Sasie, and she was soon lost to his sight among the crowd. At other times he fancied he saw her in the woods, or in the streets before him, but always just when he hoped he had found her she vanished from him. This evening he thought he saw her again, indeed he was convinced that Sasie had entered a door on the opposite side of the road. Was that where she lived? he would wait awhile and watch, so sitting down on a doorstep among the shadows, where he could not easily be seen, he waited. Would she come?

Sasie meanwhile had been standing watching him from the window, and as she watched her conscience smote her. Was she acting very unkindly towards this poor old man, she wondered, and had she been wrong in not fulfilling her promise sooner? And yet she felt so disinclined to go and see him; and what good could she do even if she went?

She wished, however, she had gone in the summer, when she had had nothing much to do, for Sasie was busy in a certain way now.

Finding herself growing somewhat miserable and morbid, she had lately, unknown even to her own people, joined two or three societies, which helped to occupy her aud to plan out her day. A reading and a practising society were among them; she had till now kept rigidly to their rules, and, however much she was wanted elsewhere, she was determined nothing should induce her to break them. These societies were therefore a decided trial to her home people. Unconscious of the fact that Sasie had bound herself to any course of action, her sudden craze for reading and practising was an enigma to them.

"Sasie is no good to any one," Mildred had remarked more than once, when, on the plea of having too much to do, her sister had shirked some home duty. But Nona Iancaster, who understood Sasie better, and loved her not a little, by no means despaired of her becoming both a good and useful woman.

It was dark before Sasie, after having had a warm cup of tea, and a merry chat with her friends, started home again. And it was not till she had reached her own gate that she remembered Mr. North. Scarcely, however, had she stepped into the brightly lighted hall before the drawingroom door was opened, and Leith Lancaster made his appearance.

46

"Ah, Sasie, is it you at last?" he said, on catching sight of her; "well, now I may just as well wait for the answer to the note I have brought you from my mother." And so Mr. North was banished, anyhow for the evening, from Sasie's mind.

But not from Leith Lancaster's. Making his way home through the dimly lighted High Street half an hour afterwards, his foot struck against something that made him start back with an expression of dismay on his lips. Stooping down he caught sight of a streak of silvery hair. "It is my poor old friend," he murmured, with a tremor in his voice.

THE PRIEST OF THE HUNTING GOD.

ALANANI was the priest or sorcerer of the hunting god Ayappan, whose chief shrine is in Savari-Mala (a place visited by Rev. J. Caley some years ago*), a hill among the Travancore Ghats. It was the duty of Talanani to deck himself in a certain fantastic garb, and brandishing a sword, to dance and shake himself about in a frantic way, rattling his bangles, and, intoxicated with drink and excitement, reveal in unearthly shrieks the mind of his god on any given question. He belonged to the Hill Arraan village of Erumapara, or Eruma-para (the rock of the she-buffalo), some 35 or 40 miles east from Cottayam, and first brought within the sound of the Gospel by the apostle of the Arraans, Henry Baker, junior, in 1852.+ The time when Talanani lived can be nearly calculated. "Old men who are now grandfathers say that their fathers knew him when he was an old man," as I have been told. He was a man of a remarkable character, and very devoted to his god; when the people of his village used to start on pilgrimage to Savari-Mala, he would say, "I am not going," and yet when they arrived at the shrine he was there to welcome them, a remarkable feat of bravery, since he performed alone a march through the forest which none others dared to do except in large companies, and even then wild beasts, tigers, &c., and disease claim numbers before they reach their journey's end. S) men had a great regard for him, and while things were in this state the neighbouring Chogans (palm

* See the GLEANER for May, 1878, which has a sketch of Mr. Caley sleeping in a tree.

† See GLEANER, June, 1879.

tree climbers) killed him during one of his frequent drunken bouts and hid his body in the forest; but the tigers, Ayappan's dogs, scratched up his body, without tearing it, and leaving it on the edge of the grave the wild elephants, out of respect for the forest god, carried it to a road where friends found it, and so the murder was out.

A plague of small-pox broke out among the Chogans, which one of the Arraan sorcerers (or devil-dancers) revealed would not abate until they made an image of their victim and worshipped it, and that the plague was sent by the anger of Sastawn (Chattan, or Sattan, the god of the Travancore Hill boundary). The image was duly made of bronze, about four inches high, and placed in a tiny temple in a grove. The heir of Talanani became the priest of the new shrine, and frequent vows were made by the Arraans when they went on hunting expeditions that if successful they would give the deity Talanani refreshments, arrack, parched rice, venison, &c.

The story so far is what a heathen Arraan would tell in all good faith, but more remains to be said. All the descendants of the once worshipped heathen sorcerer are now Christians, the spiritual children of the late Mr. Baker; and when I was in charge of Melkavu in 1881, the last heir, who was not a Christian, decided to join "such as are being saved," and when he put himself under instruction for baptism he handed to the catechist for me the bronze image of our hero, the large sword, more than four feet long, and the silver-tipped wand, a pair of bangles, and two necklaces, one of large and one of small berries, sacred to the Hindu god Siva, which had been used in the worship of Talauani. The village of Erumapara is now in charge of Rev. W. Kuruwila, who was ordained deacon by Bishop Speechly on September 21th, 1882, but he had been for many years previously the catechist at Melkavu, living with his family amongst the Hill Arraans, a day's journey from the low countries, and exposed to much danger of fevers as well as comparatively isolated. Very few natives from the plains care to live at Melkavu. May God bless and keep the new pastor, and reward him with many converts from among the heathen Arraans. W. J. RICHARDS.

home

MEN'S WORKING PARTIES.
To the Editor.

IR,-I have great pleasure in sending you, according to promise, an account of the things made by the men of my village Bible-class for our CM.S. sale. My ex-soldier made an excellent rug of snips of cloth, some of which were kindly sent by one of the readers of the GLEANER in response to my letter in the January number. "Sweet was worked in red cloth in the centre. The gardeners made two beautiful bird-cages, two knitted scarfs, and three walking-sticks. The tailor made a small suit of clothes, the baker sent six loaves of bread, and last, but not least, the blacksmith made four fire-shovels and two pairs of tongs, all of which were sold immediately, and more were so much wanted that he has kindly promised to make them. All these contributions had a table to themselves, and excited especial interest both before the sale and at the time. Everything was bought.

I do hope many other young men will go and do likewise, and feel what a privilege it is to work with their own hands that they may have to give to those who need that greatest of all blessings, the knowledge of the Saviour who gave Himself for us.

The men were very much interested in the Norwich C.M.S. Exhibition, and I think the sight of the idols of wood and stone have made us ali realise more than ever the need and importance of missionary work. Would it not be a good plan to have little exhibitions of the same kind in our village schoolrooms? S. C. E.

A Working Man's Effort.

To the Editor.

EAR SIR,-Seeing in your January issue mention made of Men's Work. ing Classes, it occurred to me it might be a hint to some if you thought well to state my last year's plan of helping.

Being only a working-man, and unable to give but a small sum, and being fond of birds, it occurred to me (after hearing a local clergyman urge the claims of this grand Society) that I might combine pleasure to myself and assistance to the Society, so I made a large cage, and obtained a pair of common canaries, with which I last summer bred, and sold their young, enabling me to add about 19s. Cd. to my box, besides having two yet unsold. X. Y. Z.

Devonshire Mosses for the C.M.S.

EAR MR. EDITOR,-We have been considering how we could add our share to the "half as much again," and have thought that the lovely We have lanes and moss-covered banks of Devon might assist us. pressed and mounted various specimens of messes, and should now be glad to dispose of them either singly or in a collection for the benefit of the C.M.S. Should any of your readers be disposed to give us orders for this good cause, we shall be most glad to receive them. L. E. JUKES. Address-Miss L. E. Jukes, 11, St. Paul Street, Tiverton, Devon.

LISTEN!

True Stories from Fuh-Chow.

BY A LADY MISSIONARY.

II.

OW I will show you the inside of another house. I went during the summer holidays, for I wanted, as you do, to see the interior of a Chinese Christian home. The man was paid a little money, only just enough to keep his wife and himself in food. And here I should like to state, that in Fuh-Chow it has been the object of the missionaries to give very small salaries, because by nature the Chinese are a money-loving race, and if larger salaries were given there might be a risk of some trying to enter the Church work for earthly gain; as it is, the men could, most of them, earn considerably more than they now get by following their own occupation. There is another reason: we all want the Church to be self-supporting, and when they pay for their own teaching they learn the value of money, so we try to prepare them beforehand to do God's work without looking forward to the future. God has promised to supply their need, and He never breaks His promises. I have heard many different opinions from those who give money to missionary societies; but if they would just give it to God, and leave Him and trust Him to use it, not wanting to know exactly how every penny is spent, it would be so much better, and relieve the already tired-out workers considerably. It is painful to hear, "Well, I work hard for my money, and I don't find people so ready to give to me; if, therefore, I do give, I want to know where the money goes, and what it is used for." One feels inclined to say, "What have any of us that we have not received? The Lord is able to give you much more than this. He loveth a cheerful giver, and what the cheerful giver layeth out shall be paid him again.'

Well, now I will invite you to accompany me into a boat placed at our disposal; the straw matting over the top hardly protects us from the sun, but we soon reach our landing-place, and we go round the foot of the mountain ("we," that is, myself and servant) until we reach a village where we are welcomed with shouts of "A foreigner! Look at the foreign woman; come and see-quick, she walks fast-let us see where she goes." They crowd on, and gather as we go, until we reach the chapel, which is a private house, with one large room on the right fitted up for Divine worship. There are two other small rooms with mud floors; the first the living room, and then a door leading into a windowless tiny room used as a bedroom.

The living room was soon crowded to excess; all talked at once, and each wished to have her, or his, question answered. Most of the women were poor and had families, therefore it was not improper for them to come in; and their tiny feet were not thought of when curiosity to see and hear a foreigner stood in the way. Soon Mrs. Ling (the catechist's wife) said to me, "Please come into the chapel; the people are crowding you so, and you can talk to them there." So we wended our way en masse into the chapel, and then, feeling very tired and hungry, I asked the catechist to speak to the people. Of course I had to sit and listen; and while the teacher tried to give them the words of life they were feasting their eyes on me, and making very queer statements about myself and garments. When he had ended I answered as many questions as I could. Then I told them they must be very hungry; would they not go home and take some refreshment (we had given them tea), and come again afterwards? Many of them kindly took the hint, and I was able to move out. I then asked for my room. There was a ladder placed in the living room leading up to a trap-door in the ceiling. I climbed up, and when in the room I found myself unable to stand upright, it was so low; and not having

any window, and being very hot, I slipped off some of the tiles to admit light and air.

I was not allowed to remain quiet long; the men had returned from work, and hearing that a foreigner had arrived, came at once to see me. They were most respectful and quiet, and asked me why I had come. I told them I wanted to see their wives, and help the teacher's wife to begin a school for their children. I tried to tell them how important it is that children should learn; but as I had only a limited stock of words at command, I don't fancy they understood much. But the teacher's wife came to my rescue, and I thanked Mrs. Ling for not only translating my words intelligibly, but adding more of her own, for it was her heart's desire to begin a school there. Some children were standing near, and she said, "I have tried to teach these." So I pointed to the picture of Moses and the Brazen Serpent hanging on the wall, and said, "What is that?" "A serpent." "Can it bite?" "No." "Why

not?" "Because it is brass." "What is that man doing with it?" "God told him to do that, and then if the people looked they got well." These answers were given by a wee fellow of not more than eight years old, who had up to the last few months been worshipping idols. And he added, "I can read a hymn." "Can you? Let me hear you." He brought the book and read, or rather repeated, the whole of " He leadeth me, oh blessed thought"; our Chinese translation of that hymn is good. Then he repeated "Jesus loves me, this I know." The men were highly delighted, and promised to send their children to learn. The little boy had a tiny girl in his arms, so I asked, "Is that your sister?" "No," he answered, and looked very shy. His brother, standing near, said, "That 's his wife." This was the first baby-wife I had seen. It seemed so dreadful that I asked the mother why she took a child so young from its own mother. 66 Well, you know, if I had waited I should have had to pay a high price, and I can't afford it; so as I had a little girl about her age we exchanged children, and hers being a big fat baby I gave one dollar (about 3s. 9d.) and a bundle or two of cakes.' I felt dumb. It is a lawful custom in their land, and until Christianity makes way it will not be changed. I don't think civilisation will ever do it, so many of them think their own civilisation superior to ours.

Some rice having been prepared, I seated myself on a wooden stool, at a wooden table, and with a pair of chop-sticks in one hand, ate my rice and fish. One man ran home and brought a basin of very good potatoes, all hot; and Mrs. Ling said, Fancy his being kind to you. Five years ago he threatened to kill my husband, and declared that the Christian doctrine should never be introduced here; now he comes to church, brings others, and is our best friend, but I thought he still hated foreigners."

It was soon time for evening worship. Mr. Ling called the men in, and Mrs. Ling went out to fetch the women, or tried to. She succeeded in getting three to come in; with all their curiosity to see me, they could not be persuaded to come in for prayers. Mr. Ling gave out a hymn, and by the time we had finished the room was uncomfortably full. The little oil lamps gave out a disagreeable smell, and the men were smoking all the time. Mr. Ling then read and expounded a chapter from the Epistle to the Romans, and then we knelt-a very few present knelt, kneeling means going to become a Christian. After Mr. Ling's prayer several joined in the Lord's Prayer, and the sweetest and loudest voice belonged to my little boy-husband, whose acquaintance I had made that morning. Before we had time to rise from our knees an old man began, "O God, do forgive me, I thought more of my potatoes on Sunday than I did of Thy commandment. I was afraid it would rain and they would spoil, and my family have no food; I didn't trust Thee. I am very sorry, do forgive me." Poor old man, two years after this